


Shadows Will Scream

by snailthesaints



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Psychosis, basically g has an Episode in school, but frank's there, the happy ending is one okayish sentence among hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 12:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6704581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snailthesaints/pseuds/snailthesaints
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Gerard's reintegrating back into school post 6 months in hospital, and it's not like things would go smoothly if you're psychotic anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows Will Scream

**Author's Note:**

> heyheyhey massive trigger warnings for this it's hella dark and unreality and anxious provoking so pls be careful
> 
> also i was rlly scared to post bc:
> 
> 1) heavy topic which if portrayed badly has a ton of implications, yet the truth can be quite ugly sometimes
> 
> 2) first person, present tense, intentionally badly written to add effect but if it's a bit off then it's literally just badly written
> 
> 3) triggering as fuck
> 
> 4) shit ending
> 
> 5) try not to laugh okay i'm tryna show how it can be for some
> 
> so pls lemme know if this is at all inaccurate or dodgy and i'll take it down so fast
> 
> also save the bees

I’m looking down at my work and it’s math lesson I think but the words are swirling across the page like they’re the fucking queen of sheba and the plus sign _surely_ has a shadow, but it’s maths so no one understands it anyway especially not when you’re getting a little psychotic so I can’t exactly be blamed for just colouring in the grid- the graphline’s- no one knows what they’re called either- and making it all checkered.

And then they start talking again about fuck knows what, they’re quite far away, all electronic, maybe on a separate radiowave, no that’s delusional, I’m reminding myself.

It’s just noise, what I’ve built up in my head and maybe someone should answer the phone that’s _almost definately_ been ringing for, like, 10 minutes now.

And I still have no idea what this is and then I’m hearing numbers too, because it’s like they’re tryna make this hard for me, like when someone’s trying to count but because you’re an asshole friend, you’re throwing out numbers for no reason other than to fuck it up, but it’s not like I’d know anything about that because I have none.

“Gerard” Frank’s whispering “Gerard”

All the others echo it and I look round and 5 minutes probably passed already but Frank looks like a little puppy, though it’s not like he ever doesn’t, it’s just, under the harsh lights of the classroom- he’s so fucking puppy like and his eyes glow such a gorgeous shade of honey, which is odd considering he’s vegan and I’m not sure if vegans eat honey because bees are a thing that lives, but maybe he’s just allergic to it like he’s allergic to fucking everything, because he’s unlucky like that, but it’s kinda logical because his eyes are so bright he surely must have enough in his system already, if he had anymore he’d probably overdose- overdose on honey- honey overdose- is that possible?

But he looks so gorgeous and he’s said something, and he’s complimented my doodling because that’s literally all I’ve done in this stupid lesson.

“You’re very talented you know” he’s smiling, and I wonder why because it’s just fucking criss crosses but maybe he’s talking about the slightly more detailed sketch on the other side, he’s probably talking about the slightly more detailed sketch on the other side and I smile.

“Thanks” I reply, though it could’ve come out a little loud because the voices are still yelling the fucking numbers.

And I remember some tumblr post, because save the bees, and eating honey is a good thing (including for vegans) because it pays the beekeepers or some shit, and stops the bees going extinct.

“Do you get this?” he’s asking.

“I, uh, do, I think, but my heads- a- if I could concentrate and thoughts would, like, thoughts- I might”  
Someone’s laughing because it’s not like I expected it to come out in fucking english, it’s just a stream straight from my brain and my brains a pile of shit and needs to not hallucinate and also remind me to shut the fuck up when I’m rambling.

“You want help with it?”

I don’t think the laughter was from anyone in the class.

This is probably a psychosis thing, it’s totally a psychosis thing, and they’ve still not given me a diagnosis but now they’re hissing ‘crazy crazy crazy’ and I laugh because they’re the fucking hallucination, imagine being told you’re crazy by a literal hallucination, but it hurts because it’s true.

Then I’m jolting sideways because _something_ hissed in my ear and I jump because I _felt_ it, whiskas, breath on my skin, and I bring my hand to my ear, hoping it’s nonchalant, hoping it got rid of it, but really there was nothing there and if there was it was superphysical so would probably be unaffected by the matter that makes up my hand anyway.

It’s when your fucking feet are talking to you (they are) you gotta evaluate some shit, and I’m sat here registering how long I’m been saying ‘uhm’.

“Okay”

“What are you thinking?” he sounds playful, he’s a little concerned and I can’t hear anything over the noise, all the noise, because he’s so cute but he hates me, he hates me, he hates me, they tell me. And I try to self talk as something whips past, something some psychiatrist prattled on about every 5 minutes in that place, the hospital, but now I’m out and “reintegrating”, and maybe I’m getting worse because this is a little intense, it’s mild, it’s fucking mild, but I’m in a classroom and with that considered, I’m scared of myself.

Challenge them, the damn psychiatrist said, another voice says, Frank loves me, and he’s caring, he’s helping me, and he’s picking up on it, because he knows me better than I know myself, because he’s seen me on the acute ward, he doesn’t judge, not once, and he loves me, he loves me.

I shrug.

And if he doesn’t hate me he wants to know, he wants to know what the radiowaves say, he loves me.

They’re screaming again, he doesn’t love me, of course not and maybe I should overdose on the motherfucking honey, that way the world would be thousand times better, and Frank would be better off, and the dove tattoos he swears he will get will commemorate how I left and his life changed or something some self help said because he has depression, I’m worse though, I’m worse they remind me, I’m worse and it’s true, I’m utterly crazy.

And if I tell him what I’m thinking and he’s the tracker, I’ll die, they’ll kill me, but that could be my suicide.

So I’m telling him anyway.

“I think you’ll kill me, no- uh- it’ll be via you- you’ll be the accomplice, you’ll go to prison, actually, no please don’t just like- uh, can- can we buy some fucking honey? no that’s not what I’m thinking, I’m thinking everything and nothing, but I’m okay so if you could just keep doing your math for a minute and I’ll try to stay sane”

I’m running my hands through my hair, because that can’t have sounded normal but no one’s listening, everyone’s listening but no one’s listening, they’re chucking gum.

I know someone’s listening, the trackers near, warm, it’s not Frank, it could be anyone, but I feel it, and they’re telling me it, over and over again, and I’m trying to fucking shut them up because if they’re on the same wavelength as us it could draw them to me, the tracker could move. 

But I’m tired, I just want them to leave, let me live, I haven’t had much sleep and maybe that’s why, maybe I should’ve slept.

It’s always worse when I don’t sleep.

They tell me what I need to hear in my dreams, safely, but if I’m awake, I’m not dreaming, they gotta fuck up my day with their talking.

It’s riskier in the day because the tracker might hear, but it’s worse in the dreams because you forget, it’s just abstract images once you’ve woken up, but at least we know the tracker never heard, even if it makes no sense, not that they particularly do a good job of making sense in the daytime anyway, so we’re fucked either way, and maybe it’s all just the brain interference not the messages, it’s probably the brain interference, I should’ve slept.

Frank’s been talking, it’s too loud.

“Gee?”

I’m nodding and in my peripheries the poster’s overflowing, maybe they should’ve glued the border down better so it wouldn’t escape, though the flimsy card would be engulfed so fast.

He’s barely audible now.

“I’m not gonna be having anything to do with your potential death, and you’re not gonna be dying anytime soon, so please don’t let anyone tell you any different”

“I’m- not saying- it’s getting cold now, not the temperature, I’m sorry, I need to shut up- thanks, you love me? I’m fine- just tired”

“Of course I love you”

“I love you too- I know- I must know- yea, that sounded- no- I love you- I’m not convincing, I love you- my heads a mess- I’m okay”

“They talking to you again?”

I’m nodding again, maybe too much because my head feels like fluff it already felt like fluff and they’re fucking screaming so loud it hurts and I can feel them at the top of the spine I can feel their teeth and I’m quite amazed I’m not screaming too, because it doesn’t even hurt, but it totally does, like, when you’re numb to it, when you cut and you’re waiting for the blood but it takes a few seconds as it bubbles to the top and in that moment you’re staring at it, in that moment, you’re feeling nothing at all.

“And I love you more, baby”

Frank’s pulling something out my pocket and I’m trying to grab it, playfully, and it’s my phone and headphones and for a moment I’m sure this boy is god, because I’d forgotten it but _music_ and it’s like they realise they’re doomed because they scream louder, as a last ditch attempt before I drown them out.

And he’s shoving it in my hand, and it looks so fucking weird, so fucking weird: a stream of binary numbers, the programming, their programming.

My heart drops.

And I’m glancing up to Frank, his face unreadable, someone’s turning the contrast down, and there’s a 6 foot spider on the wall, which surely can’t be visible to the class because not one person in the room has screamed, not even Becky who set off the fire alarm last time she saw a spider and got suspended and maybe it’s the psychosis but I make a mental note of it anyway, in case it’s a sign.

“Frank” I’m hissing. They all mock me.

He hums.

I shove the phone in his face.

He looks puzzled.

“The phone- the screen- read- read what it- what is on it?”

“Well um, what do you see?”

“I’m not- uhm, psychotic, I am- you tell me what it says”

“Okay, well, there’s the time, 12:31, the date, November 19th, the notifications bar across the top, you have a text, a facebook notification, a whole bunch of twitter notifications, a tumblr notification, david bowie paused, then the picture of us and ‘swipe to unlock’”

“No coding?”

“Nope”

I’m biting my nails and I shouldn’t because it hurts, and the nail paint is chipping off, because painted nails are fucking nice on a guy, but it’s a hallucination, Frank wouldn’t lie.

The voices disagree, and ‘fag fag fag fag fag’ and I’m shoving my earphones in and hitting play and notching the volume up loud because I’ve heard their screams, their real screams and it’s deafening.

And my head won’t work and my brains fucked and I can feel the fluff inside my skull, I can feel the bugs crawling across my scalp and I can’t even be bothered to scratch, it’d only anger them, but they eat my brain and I swear I can feel it happening and maybe that’s the undiagnosed diagnosis that doctors talk about and I’m tearing up because I hate this so much, and I don’t know what’s real and I can’t do it, my heads a mess, and the world’s out of sync and Frank’s Frank and he’s saying something but I can’t hear anyway because the music’s loud and I want to scream because I don’t know what’s real anymore and they’ve still not noticed the spider so probably not that, but as the legs morph into needles my heart starts racing because I like arachnids but needles ruin me and maybe they would inject their poison and knock me out, maybe they would kill me, maybe that would be best, but Frank’s in front of me, Frank’s in front of me and my brain growls over the music, I’m psycho, I’m a psycho, I’m a psycho.

And I’m terrified.

And I look at Frank, his face swimming, and I want to wake up but I’m staring intently and he’s mouthing ‘Are - you - okay?’ and I just shake my head, and he puts his hand up, and I pull it back down because I don’t want the attention and maybe the teachers the tracker, holy shit, the teachers the tracker and now the class are really watching.

She smiles her smile, the patronising one designed just for me, and says something I don’t hear, and I’m taking out an earphone and I’m an ugly fat worthless cunt who should drink bleach as the noise floods in.

“Are you okay?”

I’m opening my mouth but the words don’t flow but maybe that’s best anyway, after all she is the tracker, maybe I should play along to get out her range, maybe I should run as fast as my legs can take me because I can feel my skin prickle, her static electricity fizzing through my every nerve and my heart thudding in my chest and the voices are terrifyingly silent again because they know the tracker’s there too and if they let anything slip, _they’ll know_.

You can cut the tension with a knife.

So I try to sit up straight, try to look okay, like a normal pupil, but it says everything in the notes, she knows everything but the messages themselves, she knows far too much for a stranger, she is not to be trusted and she likes math.

I wonder if it’s a code, it’s the numbers and ‘x’s and algebra that controls us.

And then I gasp, they hiss their venomous remarks, because that was important and I’ll note it down later but the trackers still there and _she heard, she heard, she heard, she knows_.

Fucked up, I fucked up and right there her vacant smile because when people are trackers they’re emotionless, zombies, robots and I can’t trust her, not at all, not one bit, just like my dad when he found out, just like the supermarket guy, just like the blue man, not one bit.

And she’s waiting for an answer and the longer I’m silent the more suspicious it seems.

So I nod.

“Do you need a minute?”

I stare at her, the words nothing but syllables, hanging in the air meaningless. I try to piece them together, but my brains fucked, my brains fucked, my brains fucked. They yell it at me.

I don’t need a minute, I need no minutes, I wish I didn’t have a minute left at all.

And she’s gesturing towards the door and something makes sense but I can’t go with her, no, they’ll know, no.

“Will come- will you come- are you going with me?” I’m mumbling, keeping a straight face.

They snicker.

“No, I’ve gotta teach, dear, will you be okay on your own? Go to the nurses office. Or do you want someone to come with you?”

“No! Uh- Frank, I’ll go to the- can Frank with come me?”

And she agrees because I’m crazy, and I follow Frank out the classroom, checking back over my shoulders as they mutter something.

And with the soft pitter patter of the rain on the glass roof of this corridor, this schools like a greenhouse, but more disgusting, because greenhouses can be pretty sometimes, but this is just hell with a cracked roof, the opera music playing outside and the flickering of the lights in the daytime, we’re out the class.

“Frank” I call “We’re got noing to the- fuck- we’re not going to the nurse”

“Didn’t intend on”

“Good” I’m downstairs when I’m replying and they’re talking to me still and why won’t they leave me alone, and they know I wouldn’t live without them and I know I wouldn’t live without them and I’m nearly crying.

“Do you wanna sit on the field?”

They all tell me, sit on the field, I nod, I don’t wanna get my butt wet, but we’re stepping outside and sitting on the field and they’re quieter now, they’re scarier now they’re cutting deep in my brain and I can feel the damage and I’m trying to breathe deeply and I look like a fucking retard doing it, they remind me so nicely, and I don’t like the slur that I am, but I don’t like the person I am and I should hang myself so they can be free.

And Frank says something and it’s gone and disappeared and a joke for a moment but long past now and there’s a daisy.

And “Frank’s just using you”

“Drop dead”

“They’re gonna lock you up again, and you’ll be left there for life this time, and you can wave goodbye to your comic book dreams, you can wave goodbye to us, because we don’t normally have worthless scum doing your job”

“I’m sorry- doom patrol, I wanna- please don’t go, I can be better, I’m sorry I told the tracker I’m sorry I’m going insane”

“Babe you okay?”

“I’m- you’re- I’m okay, not like before with the socks- and the chalk- it’s so loud, I wanna scream because it’s art, and they won’t let me do art, no please, they do let me, they want me to, they’re really nice it’s just-”

“Puppet”

“A B C D E”

“Drink bleach”

“F G H”  
“Baby, do you want me to get someone?”

“No, no, I’m okay-”

“I J K L M N O”

“- I’m good, I’m sane, they’re not, we’re not, no ones sane, I’m not, you’re a nutter, like that fucking ice cream van and the dead kids- no- paralysed- I felt their teeth earlier so thanks for the music”

“P Q R S”

“Okay, um, Gee, what if we, play a game, um, can you point to some things that are blue?”

“I’m not five and I think I’m five did the clock say five, I’ll write that where the spider and the- the her skirt was ugly, I don’t like to bodyshame, you’re gorgeous Frank, don’t treat me like I’m five”

“T U V”

“He’s ugly”

“W X Y Z”

“Thanks I guess, I know you’re not five, so uh, what if I said name some things that are bleu that way I’m entertained, you get a little closer to earth and we’re both revising our french”

“He’s not, I love him, fuck off”

“You’re five”

“What a thick skulled cunt you fancy”

“Kill him”

“Kill yourself”

“Stop telling him that, I know it’d be better for everyone if he did but without out his sorry ass there’s none of us so shut it”

“I’m sorry, I-I you deserve to be me, die- I deserve, no, revision what a bitch, I ate it, that saying and the lies they told us everyday, they’re lying, what about the sky, that-that’s blue”

“Yeah, um, it is- obviously, okay, Gee you’re understanding me right? Please listen to me”

“Your turn”

“Gerard? If this doesn’t pass soon I’m gonna take you to the nurse afterall okay, and I really don’t want you to hate me for that because she’ll make them go away for a bit if that’s what you want, okay?”

“I love you, don’t- bleu, the nurse is blue it’s okay you don’t hate them but if the nurse is the tracker I hate you but that’s not you it’s them and they’re my favourite radio station”

“Our father who art in heaven hallowed be thy-”

“I bet the nurse isn’t the tracker, so um, as long as she’s not would you be okay with seeing her quick?”

“I’ll let you know, no, maybe, if the nurse and lollipop I fucking hate strawberry and try to slit open my face but that’s the, oh my god, the teeth, it was a sign, they no the nurse will hurt”

“I spend my fucking life in the nurses office, seriously, she’s chill, she won’t hurt a fly, plus it’s better than double english”

“When they started, sounds transgender, what is being was-”

“You fucking retard”

“Gerard, don’t slap me for asking but did you take your meds today?”

“Yeah- yeah, I saw them in the pot, I knew this was crazy I thought tracker would near I will kill someone when I go to college I can’t say kill someone or they lock you up for metaphor when really spike millagan was a great poet and I’m sure he used metaphor a lot in bipolar onecan toucan spare time”

“Die”

“I, I agree, so um, you saw them in the pot and then you definately took them?”

“All the star wars then meds because chocolate milkshake makes me feel sick except shakeaway but you’re body’s an asshole it’s funny”

“Slit your wrists so when your parents find you drowned in the bathtub they’ll be proud of you for the first time in their sad little lives”

“It’s not funny- wait you- you watched all the star wars?”

“On dvd at least except I want movies but I would ruin the show”

“Yeah but all in between getting home from school and this morning?”

“Yeah they were nice and the I fucking-”

“Look what you just did, maybe we need to punish you again”

“Shut up no shut up please”

“That’s like 13 hours worth so, didn’t you get any sleep?”

“Gerard I love you but I think we need to leave you now, you’re a strong boy and it’s really sad to let you go because I enjoyed having you in the team, but you’re just not up to standard, you’re just not enough”

“Please don’t- no- stop-”

“This makes sense, baby I think I understand now maybe you should go take a nap”

“No please don’t go I’m sorry I love you”

“We love you Gerard”

“We just don’t like how you are at the moment”

“I’m sorry, I’ll do whatever you say, I’m sorry, you should good because I- no reason, nothing no one, need you to live but that’s okay I hate myself”

“Please don’t hate yourself, I love you, and you deserve all the love in the world so please don’t listen to anyone telling you different or I’ll kick their asses”

“They’re already dead you can’t you’d need to kick me- kill me, I’ll kill me- they get a replacement and I’m nothing”

“You’re everything and more, Gerard”

“He’s lying”

“He’s one of them”

“He’s lying scum”

“Strangle him”

“Can you not see through him?”

“I- I can, he’s deluded I’m not my fault no it is I should get I’m so sorry”

“Baby what are they saying?”

“Depressing things, slit my wrists, strangle you”

“Why did you tell him?”

“We can’t trust you”

“You’re worthless”

“Worthless”

“Please do neither”

“Do both”

“We’re gonna leave you all alone now”

“Just you and your fuckbuddy”

“And he’ll give up on you, just like we have, and then you’ll have no one - you deserve no one”

“Please don’t go don’t leave”

“Look at him he’s a nutter”

“Scum”

“Scum”

“No wonder your Dad overdosed, didn’t wanna live in a world with you in it”

“That’s not how it happened tell them Frank”

“You’re talking bullshit”

“We’ll pour gas over you both in your sleep then set the bed on fire”

“No let him live angel I love him no”

“We’ll leave you, ditch you”

“Please no”

“Gerard breathe baby”

“Faker”

“We’ll peel off his skin”

“Gerard you’re a nutter”

“The end”

“Please, I love bleached hair don’t make me choke on it I’ll cry piss please don’t leave me I’m trying”

“Gerard”

“Did the tracker find us your radio’s broken have you left”

“Are you okay?”

“Where are you? Come back please don’t leave me I’m sorry”

“Mhmm”

“I’ll try be best I’ll be the best service please it’s static don’t leave me with static”

“Who are you talking to, Gerard?”

“Ha! No one, you’re talking to no one”

“Someone, anyone, please don’t leave me”

“ _I’m_ not gonna leave you, Gee”

And with the soft fingers squeezing my hand, there’s a millisecond of quiet.

**Author's Note:**

> the ending was hella intense ik and really confusing so i may put it in the comments from f's pov (so w/o the voices) if people need it clarified or to see it from the outside
> 
> and follow me on twitter @terrorofkncwing and tumblr dont---try


End file.
